Oh Darling, What's to Become of Us?
by whathappenedtofrederick
Summary: Post 2x10. There is nothing left for Regina in Storybrooke.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the intense feelings this show presents me with each week. **

_Before:_

She can hardly bear to watch as Henry walks across the street and into Emma's waiting arms. She can barely breathe as they sit down on a bench and Emma tells him the ugly truth. No, not truth, she reminds herself. Not this time. This time she is innocent. As the tears stream down her cheeks and Henry throws himself into Emma's embrace, she kicks herself. She's become an honest woman far too late, and there is no one left in this town to believe her.

Regina can't look at his face. She doesn't want to see the heartbreak or its equally painful alternative. She can't, she **won't **know if her son will mourn her or if he will rejoice at his newfound freedom. But then he isn't her son, after all. Not anymore. Not ever again. She desperately tries to convince herself of this as she swipes at the residual tears in her eyes and puts the car into drive.

She doesn't mean to see him in the mirror as she pulls away, but she does. His face scrunches up and he yells something in her direction, but she can't hear it over the pounding of her heart in her chest and the revving of the Mercedes' engine as she speeds quickly out of the center of town.

Back at the mayoral mansion, she makes quick work of packing the essentials away. There's not much that she really wants or needs, and in the end it all fits neatly into her designer suitcase that has never before seen the light of day. She closes all the windows and, with a shaky hand, pulls the door to Henry's room closed. In her study, she pulls a piece of monogramed stationary from her desk and hastily pens the letter that she has been writing in her head all day long.

When she is finished, she dabs at the spots where stray tears have smudged her words and folds the letter neatly into a matching envelope. She drops her house keys into the envelope too and seals it. Taking a last look around the room, her eyes settle on the framed pictures that have been collecting dust on her desk. One is of Regina herself, holding an infant Henry outside under the apple tree the very same day that Gold showed up with him on her doorstep. She takes the photo out of the frame and runs her thumbs over the edges before tucking it into her jacket pocket. There is another photo of Henry next to the now empty frame that catches her eye, this one from his birthday last year, just before everything fell apart. She takes this one too and pulls the door to the study shut solidly behind her.

The envelope she leaves neatly arranged on the kitchen table, propped up against the last bowl of her apples that this house will ever see. She drags the case out to the Mercedes and loads it into the trunk, swallowing hard as she looks up at the house that has been her home for the past twenty-eight years, twenty-eight years spent pretending that and evil queen could ever possibly have a happy ending. But Regina knows better now.

For a second, she falters in her resolve. Perhaps this is a mistake.

No. No, this is her only option. She will never be able to prove her innocence. She will never earn Emma's trust back, not after losing her temper and magically throwing the savior halfway across her front lawn. She has failed miserably and will never have Henry's love. Aside from all that, she won't live to see next week if she stays. It's true that Snow White spared her once, but Regina knows better than to think that her former stepdaughter will be so gracious a second time. If she stays in Storybrooke, she will be executed for her crimes, and for some crazy reason, even though she has lost everything that ever mattered, even though she probably deserves it, Regina Mills just isn't ready to die.

_After:_

She ends up in Los Angeles, not because she has any great desire to see California, but because it's about as far away as she can get from Maine without leaving the country. It's difficult, for the first few weeks. She cries a lot. Most of the time it's for Henry, who she misses more than magic and horses and Daniel and every other good thing that has ever happened to her. Sometimes, though, it's also for Archie, good, kind Archie who held her hand after Daniel died a second death, who saw her as something more than a monster, and who certainly never deserved such a grim fate.

After three weeks of moping about in a second rate hotel, she pulls herself together. She puts a down payment on a downtown apartment [thank god for offshore bank accounts] and sets about redefining her wardrobe. She avoids black pantsuits like the plague and even buys her first ever pair of shorts [she regrets this particular purchase almost instantaneously].

The apartment is small, with just one bedroom, but what it lacks in space it makes up for in character. Regina is surprised to find that she actually takes pleasure in filling it with furniture, a couch for the tiny living space beyond the kitchen, a little table to put beside her bed. The last things she unpacks from her former life are the two photographs of Henry. She retrieves them from the pocket of the jacket she hasn't worn since stepping off of the plane and places them in a small wooden jewelry box that dates back to her days as Leopold's queen. Lord, that feels like a lifetime ago [in a way, she supposes, it was]. She buries the little box in her dresser underneath layers of socks and white tee shirts and pretends that she will be able to do the same with her heart.

Somehow, she learns to enjoy this new life. Though her fortune is probably enough to live off of by itself, she takes a job with non-profit organization managing finances [it would have been a shame to let all those years of balancing the Storybrooke budget go to waste]. The people in the office are pleasant enough, and a particular group of twenty-somethings takes an interest in mysterious little Regina Mills. They even invite her out for drinks with them on Fridays after work.

It is in the middle of once such gathering that she meets Russell. He's tall and a little scruffy, but she is struck by the way he smiles at her from across the bar, as if he knows her, as if he's always known her. Regina sees a lot of Russell in the months that follow. He worms his way into her life so gradually that she hardly notices, until one night it hits her like a ton of bricks: she's in a _relationship_.

It's a frightening thought, enough to make her slip out of his embrace at 2am and take an ice cold shower. She doesn't love him exactly, not in the way she had loved Daniel, and yet…there's something about the way he looks at her when he thinks she can't see, the way he holds after they've made love, that makes her feel a little less alone in the world.

As she is toweling off her hair, something very strange happens: the doorbell rings. Regina's brow furrows and she glances at her watch sitting on the vanity. She can't think of a single person who would have any reason to be at her door at 2:30AM on a Saturday. She hears Russell turn the light on in the bedroom. "I'll grab it," he calls sleepily into the bathroom. Regina runs a brush through her damp hair and puts her underwear and bathrobe on. "Russ?" she calls, poking her head out into the bedroom to see that her boyfriend [!] has not returned. "Russell? Babe?"

Nothing could have prepared Regina for what she finds when she walks out into the kitchen. Just inside the front door stands a bewildered Russell and beside him a tired twelve-year-old boy.

"See? I knew I had the right apartment," the boy says to Russell, kicking off his shoes and taking a seat at the kitchen island. He gives Regina a tired smile. "It's good to see you again."

She can't breathe. This is simultaneously her greatest dream and her worst nightmare all in one. She looks helplessly at Russell first, and then to the boy at the counter, who is helping himself to an apple [old habits die hard] from the fruit bowl. "I…I need a minute," she finally says, turning on her heels and retreating back into the bedroom.

Sitting down on the bed, she holds her head in her hands. This doesn't make any sense. He shouldn't be here; he's supposed to be 3,000 miles away living his happily ever after.

Russell comes in and closes the door softly.

"Regina?" She can't look at him. "Regina, what's going on? Who is this kid?" She tries to explain, but the words catch in her throat. He comes to sit beside her on the bed. "He wouldn't tell me anything, just that he's here to see you…Do you know him?"

She swallows hard and turns to face him, eyes shining with tears. "He's my son."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Before:_

School hasn't been the same since the curse broke. Before, when Mary-Margaret was his teacher, Henry had been learning about the Civil War. Now, Mary-Margaret is gone, replaced for an unspecified amount of time by Sister Astrid.

Lessons are different. They have just begun learning about the history of the old world, the world that everyone in the class can remember except for Henry. He feels like even more of an outcast than before, if that's even possible. The other kids are still nice to him, even more so now that they know he's the son of the savior, but he can't help but feel like he doesn't quite belong.

The best part of school is the bus ride home. He sits next to Grace and they trade stories. She tells him about Jefferson's house full of hats in the woods, and he tells her about how Prince Charming can slay dragons but can't really cook anything more complicated than cereal. They laugh, and Henry notices for the first time how pretty Grace is. The thought makes him blush, and he is relieved when they reach the bus stop and she skips off ahead of him.

As soon as he rounds the corner he knows something is wrong. Emma is standing there looking nervous, with Snow and Charming just behind her. He glances to his left as he crosses the street and sees his mom's Mercedes parked. What is she doing here? What are any of them doing here?

His brow furrows as he approaches Emma, who has her arms crossed across her chest. Is she angry with him? "Emma? I told you I could walk myself."

Emma exhales and she has this look in her eyes that he can't quite place. "I know, but something's happened. I wanted you to hear it from me first."

Well _that_ doesn't sound good.

Emma steers him towards a bench and they sit down. She takes his hand and sighs, as grown-ups do when they're about to deliver bad news. "Henry…It's Archie. He's…he's gone."

He doesn't understand what she means at first. "But people can't leave town. How can he be gone?"

Emma shakes her head and Henry notices for the first time that her eyes are watery. She puts a hand on his shoulder. "No, no, honey. I mean that Archie…He's dead. He's….he's been murdered."

He throws himself into Emma's arms as the world falls down around his ears. Archie is dead. Archie is dead. Archie. Dead. Archie, who has always tried to help him, always tried to look out for him, is dead. Archie, who is the closest thing Henry has ever had to a father, is dead. He pulls away, tears clouding his vision. He hesitates to even ask, but he wants to know, needs to know. "Who…who…?" he can't even finish the question.

Emma holds him tight and whispers softly, "Regina. I'm so sorry, Henry, but it was Regina." No. No no no no. This couldn't be happening. She'd changed. She'd saved Emma and Snow, her mortal enemies. She had been seeing Archie. She loved Henry. She'd made a promise. How could she? How could she do this to Archie, to him?

The tears begin to fall as he notices the Mercedes pulling out. He leaps off of the bench, his jaw quivering in anger. "You coward!" he screams, as Emma grabs him from behind and holds on tight.

"It's going to be ok, kid," she says softly, as she smoothes his hair and wipes a tear from his cheek. Henry doesn't see how.

_After_:

On Friday, they bury Archie. Henry has never been to a funeral before. It's all very sad. Marco delivers an emotional eulogy, and Snow and Emma both cry. He holds onto Pongo's leash tightly and counts the seconds until the service is over.

At the apartment afterwards, he sits on Mary-Margaret's bed and stares out the window absentmindedly. He wonders where Archie is now. His mom hadn't been big on religion, and Henry isn't sure he really is either, but he figures if heaven does exist, Archie is the one person in town who definitely deserves to be there.

Emma comes to offer him a pop tart. It's strawberry, his favorite, but he isn't hungry.

On Sunday, he works up enough motivation to break out his drawing pad. Flipping through the previous sketches makes him a little sad. It was at Archie's suggestion that Henry started drawing in the first place, a "creative outlet," he'd called it. Henry shakes the memory away as he flips to a blank page and puts his colored pencils to paper.

Emma comes to sit with him and makes some joke that Henry figures he's too young to understand, but he smiles anyway. He shows her his sketch; plans for the apartment when Mary-Margaret and David move out. Emma scoffs at his suggestion of an armory, and the rational part of his brain agrees that its probably a little over the top, but another part of him thinks it absolutely necessary. After all, his mother had killed Archie. She might try to kill Emma next, or Snow. It terrifies him, not only because he cannot imagine his life without them, but also because of how wrong he turned out to be. He hadn't believed a single word out of Regina's mouth after he got the book and figured out the curse, until last week, when she'd saved Emma and Mary-Margaret. He'd looked her in the eye and seen a woman who was trying to find redemption. He'd believed in her, and he'd been wrong. So, you see, he needs an armory now to protect his family, because his judgment alone no longer can.

As he is showing Emma his plans for the loft, there is a knock at the door. Pongo barks, and Henry can hardly believe his eyes when Archie appears. He runs to the man and hugs him tightly. Emma is all smiles, until Archie explains that he's been Cora's prisoner all this time. "Regina…she didn't do it."

Henry's heart leaps. "I knew it!" he finds himself saying, despite the fact that he hadn't questioned her guilt before. His instinct had been right after all. He immediately regrets letting Emma's evidence dissuade him. He owes his mom an apology, he realizes, and his cheeks burn as he recalls screaming at her as she drove away. "We need to find her!" he exclaims, looking at Emma anxiously.

But there is no finding Regina. She has disappeared into thin air, and Henry can't help but feel that he is to blame.

He calls her everyday after school for three weeks. He listens to her voice on the answering machine, but he never leaves a message. After the third week, Emma sits him down and tells him that maybe he shouldn't do that anymore. "I just don't think it's healthy, kid, to dwell on the past like this. It's not going to bring her back." He throws the phone across the room and runs up the stairs to the loft, flinging himself onto his bed. A part of him knows that Emma is right, calling every single day isn't going to bring his mother back [wherever Regina has gone, she doesn't seem to have taken her cell phone]. What Henry cannot accept, however, is the message that hides behind Emma's green eyes every time they talk about her: _she's never coming back_.

Two months pass. And then another two months. And then another. He starts seeing Archie again. Snow and Charming move to a house down the street with a yard and a wrap around porch. No one talks about what will become of the mayoral mansion sitting vacant at 108 Mifflin Street.

He finally meets Cora Mills one day after school. He's at the sheriff station with Emma when David brings her in in handcuffs. He imagines that everyone will be relieved. He's heard enough of Emma's hushed conversations with her parents after she thinks he's asleep to know that Cora is a threat to the town. Emma and David go out into the hallway to talk, so Henry seizes the opportunity. He creeps out of the office and walks right up to the witch's cell.

Cora looks at him with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and Henry shivers. "Well you must be Henry."

He nods. "And you're my mom's mother, the one who killed her true love, the one who framed her."

Cora laughs. "My, my, you really are Regina's son after all, aren't you?"

Henry lets out a little huff of frustration and closes his eyes. Meeting her gaze once again, he says, "Look, we don't have a lot of time. Emma and David are going to be back any minute and I'm pretty sure they're not going to be happy if they find out we've been talking. I just need to know where she is."

Cora looks at him for a moment before she speaks again. "My dear boy, I can tell you with the utmost sincerity that I have no clue where my daughter is, but I can tell you where she is not: Storybrooke."

Wednesday night is taco night. Usually Mary-Margaret and David come over, but they're both in bed sick with the flu, so it's just Henry and Emma. "Henry, can you grab the cookbook from my room?" Emma calls from the kitchen, "I can't remember how much seasoning to use. I think it's in the trunk."

He opens the black trunk at the foot of Emma's bed, and sure enough, there is the cookbook. Just as he is about to close the lid, something else catches his eye. It's an envelope tucked away in the back, like Emma had been trying to hide it. It has his name on it. "Henry?" Emma calls again. He grabs the envelope and stuffs it into the pocket of his hoodie.

"Coming!"

He doesn't get a chance to examine the contents of the envelope until after school the next day, when Emma and David are called to investigate a robbery [probably the work of Hook, who is still on the loose] and Henry is left with the apartment to himself. Inside the envelope, which Emma has clearly opened before him, he finds a letter and a set of keys. He unfolds the letter on the kitchen table, and reads it to himself softly.

_Henry, _

_I know you think I'm responsible for Archie's death. I also know that nothing I could write would ever convince you otherwise, and I understand. I haven't been a very good mother to you, Henry. I haven't been honest with you. I lied to you for all those years, and I made you feel like you were crazy for believing in the curse, when you were right all along. I hope that if you can't believe me about Archie, you'll at least believe me when I say that I am so sorry that I ever chose the curse over you. I lost sight of what was really important, and I hope that some day you will be able to forgive me._

_I also hope you'll understand when I say that it is impossible for me to remain in Storybrooke any longer. I've hurt so many people, Henry. There will be no mercy for me here, not this time. _

_To you, my darling boy, I leave the house _[well that explains the keys] _and all the rest of my worldly possessions. Do what you will with them. _

_It is my dearest wish, Henry, that if you cannot find it in your heart to forgive me, you will take it upon yourself to forget me. You still have your chance at a happy ending, and I implore you to take it. Ms. Swan and I may have our differences, but I know she loves you very much and will always do her best to love and protect you. God willing, she will be more successful at it than I. _

_I love you so much, Henry, and that's why I know I have to let you go. _

_Xx,_

_Regina _

Henry slumps back in his chair, dumbfounded. Why had Emma kept the letter a secret? Why hadn't she told him about the house, about Regina leaving town? Obviously she'd known right from the beginning that they wouldn't find his mom in Storybrooke. It occurs to him that maybe Emma doesn't want Regina to come back. He's sure Emma probably likes being the only mother in his life. He loves Emma, but he knows now that he loves Regina too. His happy ending doesn't exist without both of his mothers in his life.

And in that moment, Henry knows exactly what he needs to do: he needs to find Regina Mills, and he needs to bring her home.

Finding her turns out to be the easy part. He searches her name on WhitePages and gets 3 results. One is in Maine, which he rules out immediately. Of the other two, one is deceased, and the other is listed as 36 years old and living in Los Angeles, California. Bingo! He copies the address down on a sheet of paper and deletes his computer's browsing history [you can never be too careful with Emma].

How to actually get to Los Angeles takes Henry the rest of the night to work out. If Emma notices that his mind is elsewhere, she doesn't say so.

Mr. Gold seems surprised to see him when he walks into the pawnshop Friday morning, backpack slung over his shoulder and a look of absolute determination on his face.

"Why if it isn't young Henry Mills. Or is it Henry Swan now?"

Henry's eyes narrow, "Mills."

"Ah," the pawnbroker smiles. "Well how may I be of service to you today, Mr. Mills?"

Henry puts his bag down on the counter and looks Mr. Gold straight in the eye. "You're going give me $300 and put me on a bus to Boston."

Gold laughs. "Oh, am I? As I'm sure you know, son, I don't really deal in freebies. What is it that you have to offer me in return?"

Henry has anticipated this. "I'm going to owe you a favor. Seeing as how I'm still one of the only people who can leave this town, I think that's pretty valuable."

Gold pretends to spend a moment considering this, but Henry knows he'll take it. Ever since Gold's first plan to leave town had backfired and landed Belle in the hospital, he'd been desperate, and Henry knows how to recognize a desperate soul. The pawnbroker finally holds out his hand and they shake to seal the deal.

As Henry is about to board the bus, Gold's cash safely stashed in his backpack underneath his spare clothes, the pawnbroker puts his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Whatever it is that you're looking for out there, Henry, I hope you find it."

Henry smiles, "Me too."

He's tired as hell by the time he gets there, but it's worth it, he tells himself. He's nervous, at first, when a man in his boxers answers the door to apartment 8B, and he looks down at the address in his hand to make sure he hasn't made a mistake.

"Um, can I help you?" the man in the doorway asks, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Henry gulps. "Uh, yeah. Do you live here?"

The man hesitates, "Kid, I think you've got the wrong apartment-"

Henry shakes his head furiously, "No, this is it. This has to be it. I've come all this way to see her!"

"To see who?"

Henry is about to answer, when he hears a gasp from behind him. He turns around, and there she is. "See? I knew I had the right apartment," he says to the man beside him. He looks at his mother and beams. There are so many things he wants to tell her, but somehow all that comes out is "It's good to see you again."

He drops his bag and takes a seat at the kitchen counter. He's starving, and there's a bowl of apples sitting right there, so he takes one. His mom retreats to the bedroom and after a minute, the mystery man does as well. Henry is beginning to realize that this may be a more difficult task that he initially anticipated. But he is his mother's son, he thinks proudly, and there will be no giving up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you guys for such lovely reviews! I'm so sorry that it's taken so long for an update! I've just started back up with school and its been absolute madness. Also, shout out to criminal-intent, who has been so enthusiastic about this story and motivates me to try to keep up with it. Hope you all enjoy this next part!**

Chapter 3

The silence in the room is deafening. Regina studies Russell's face nervously. She hasn't seen him draw breath in at least a minute. Is that normal? She can't remember. "Russ?" Her voice is shaky. He blinks and meets her gaze, as though he's just now for the first time realizing that she's here.

Clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair. "What do you mean he's your _son_?" There's something in his voice that Regina can't place. He stands up and goes to the window, pacing for a moment, before he turns to look at her again. She knows that look, having seen it on her own face in the mirror for so many years. "Jesus, Regina, we've been dating for six months. I practically live in your fucking apartment. You _met_ my _parents_ last weekend. I…" Regina bites her lip as he searches for words. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry.

"Why didn't you tell me about him?" He finally asks, sitting back down beside her on the bed.

For the second time that night, Regina Mills doesn't know what to say. None of this was ever supposed to happen. Henry was never meant to find her. Henry was never meant to _want_ to find her. She was never supposed to fall in love. And she didn't, she reminds herself. She doesn't love Russell. She doesn't. No. No. No. No. No.

"Regina?" Oh.

She realizes she's had her eyes closed tightly this whole time. Sighing, she brings a hand to her head. "I…It's really, really complicated, Russell…" She trails off, hoping he'll be a good boy and leave it alone, leave her alone.

But alas, he shakes his head and stands. "No, no, stop. STOP." She jumps as he raises his voice. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to shut me out. I've let you do it before. Any time I asked you a question about your life before I met you, you got that look in your eye, and you changed the subject, and I let it go. But-" He takes her hand and meets her dark eyes "I can't let it go anymore. I can't let you push me away. You think you're protecting yourself, and I get that-"

And in that instant, for the first time since she crossed the Storybrooke line, Regina feels the queen rise up, wild and untamed, and just so _angry_. "No. No, you don't," she spits, standing up herself and getting close enough that she can hear his heart beat.

If they were back in her world, it would be so easy to rip it from his chest, right here, right now, but this is a land without magic, and that's not who Regina is anymore.

"You don't know anything about me. You don't know how I feel. You don't know who I am, or what I've _done_," It all comes out strong and menacing except for the last word, which she chokes over, fighting angry tears.

Russell throws his hands up in frustration. "And whose fault is that!?" He grabs her by the shoulders, "Listen to me," he cups her cheek with his hand, "I love you."

She shrugs him off, tears running freely down her face now. It's too much. It's too much to have to have to deal with Henry and Russell at the same time, and if there's one thing Regina has learned, it's that you have to put your child first [even if he's not your child anymore]. "No, no Russell, you don't. You think you do right now, but you don't." He starts to open his mouth to say something, but she holds up a hand.

"No, you listen to me. I'm going to give you the answers you want, ok? I'm going to tell you everything you ever wanted to know about me," and you'll hate me for it, she thinks to herself, wiping at her eyes, "but first there's something you're going to do for me." She picks up his clothes from the floor and holds them out to him, tears gone and the queen's mask rooted firmly in place now. "You're going to put your goddamn pants on, and you're going to go."

* * *

It's been a solid 15 minutes since his mom disappeared into what Henry thinks is her bedroom, followed by the man he presumes is her boyfriend. Or something. Henry clings to "or something." The idea of his mother dating makes Henry uncomfortable to this day. It's not because he thinks she's incapable of love. He'd thought that once, not so long ago, but he knows better now. He knows that once upon a time, she had loved a man named Daniel enough to punish an entire world for his death. He knows that once upon a time, she had loved her father enough to name her child after him. He knows, he hopes, that she still loves him, her son, even after all he's done to push her away.

Henry glances at his red flip phone for the first time since he got on the plane. Saturday, 2:48AM: 6 missed calls, 3 voicemails. He sighs and flips the phone shut. He'll call, he tells himself. He'll call after he's talked to his mom and convinced her to come home, but not before, because he knows what happens the minute he returns these messages. They'll make him tell them where he is, they'll come get him, and he will never see his mother again. And Henry just can't have that, not when he's worked so hard to get here, to make things right.

It's then that he hears the yelling coming from the back room. It's the man's voice first, and then he hears his mother's. Well this can't be good. It goes quiet for a few minutes, and then the door opens. Henry looks the other way, trying to feign disinterest. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that it's mystery man, fully clothed and visibly upset. He stops and looks a moment at Henry, who is still trying to pretend like this whole situation isn't really fucking awkward, before quietly exiting the apartment.

It's another minute or hour or century or two [Henry just can't tell anymore] before Regina emerges. She looks calm, cool, and collected, just like he remembers. When she comes a little closer, though, he notices her eyes are red and puffy, and it dawns on him that she's been crying.

He only remembers seeing his mom cry once. It had been late one summer night, way past his seven-year old self's bedtime, but he couldn't sleep, so he'd crept down the hallway to his mother's room. He's never forgotten the way she'd been curled up on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks and her fist closed tightly around some tiny object that he couldn't see. He'd burst in and flung himself at her, holding onto her tightly, like she did for him in thunderstorms. "It's ok Mommy, don't be sad. I'm here now."

Back then he'd been her salvation. Now, it seems, he's the cause of her suffering.

Regina leans against the counter opposite from her son. Her _son_, who is beginning to look less like a child and more like a young man [and more like Emma, the voice in her head quips].

She clears her throat, which has become uncomfortably dry. "You must be hungry." These aren't the words she wants to say, but they are all that she can manage for the moment.

Henry glances at the apple core turning brown from the air on the counter. "I'm starving," he admits. He hasn't eaten since breakfast with Emma at the apartment that morning. He feels a pang of guilt at the thought of Emma, but pushes it away. Now is not the time.

Regina finds herself relived by his affirmation. Cooking for Henry is something she still knows how to do.

The silence settles over them once again as Regina whips together a stack of chocolate chip pancakes. Henry eats, and she busies herself with the dishes. Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock on the mantelpiece. Neither Mills wants to make the next move, but Regina has been playing the game long enough to know that it must be done.

They sit down on the couch, and Regina looks at Henry with the most stoic gaze she can manage. "Henry, why…what are you doing here?" Worried that perhaps this is too offensive, she backtracks. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, because I am, of course I am! I'm afraid I just don't understand why you'd want to see me."

Henry lets out a long breath while Regina holds hers. "I've grown up a little since you left, and I don't just mean that I turned twelve. I mean…I used to believe in heroes, and that good would always win, and that evil was evil and that was that, and you know, I don't think any of that is really true at all." He thinks about the letter sitting in his backpack and continues, "Good people can do bad things, and evil isn't born," he reasons, thinking of Cora and her cruel little smile, "it's made."

A chill runs down Regina's spine as her son repeats her own words, spoken to a cursed David Nolan not so very long ago.

"And maybe it can be unmade," he looks at her with watery eyes. "I know you didn't kill Archie. I know that you really were changing, really did change. I was the one who was supposed to believe in you, but I didn't." He's crying now, which is embarrassing until he realizes that Regina is crying too. "And I missed you, mom. You went away and it was my fault. It was my fault. And I would've come sooner, but I didn't know," More than anything he needs her to understand. "They didn't tell me and I thought maybe you were hiding. I came as soon as I got the letter, I swear. I'm so sorry."

She can't listen to any more, and Henry is too overcome by a year of pent-up emotion to say the rest. She holds onto him tightly, like she used to, back when his biggest fear was the monster in his closet. Back then, it had been all about his security, but tonight, though she would never admit it, it is about hers, too. And so she clings to him as thought her life depends upon it [and maybe it does] until his breathing evens out and he's fast asleep in her arms. Drying her own eyes, she thinks for a moment about trying to move him to the bedroom, but doesn't know that she can carry him anymore [he really is growing up], so she covers him with a blanket and leaves him to the couch.

For the first time in a year, sleep comes easily for Regina. There's still much to be figured out, but for the first time in a long while, she knows that Henry loves her, and she falls asleep with a smile on her face.

When the sunlight streaming in from the window wakes her, she finds herself thinking what a wonderful dream it was, that Henry would come for her, until she hears footsteps in the hall, and then there he is. It wasn't a dream at all.

"Morning!" Henry chirps, bouncing over to sit cross-legged at the end of the bed. "Err, afternoon," he corrects, glancing at the clock on the nightstand that reads 1:00PM. "We slept kind of late."

Regina chuckles and pulls him by the ankles up next to her. "That does tend to happen when you don't go to sleep until well past 3AM."

"Mmm," Henry murmurs in agreement, but Regina senses that something else is on his mind.

"What is it, Henry?"

The boy bites his lip. "Well, I was just thinking that we should probably get packing."

Regina doesn't follow. "Ok Mr. World traveler, and where is it that we're supposed to be going? And don't think you've gotten out of explain to me exactly how it is you got _here_ in the first place. You still have a lot of explaining to do, dear."

Henry meets her gaze. "Well that's just it, we have to go back."

Regina's heart sinks, and she hopes she's misunderstood him. "Go back? Go back where?"

Henry takes her hand. "We have to go back to Storybrooke."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello lovelies! Who's excited for the return of our favorite show this Sunday?! I hope this update finds you all well. I'm so sorry about the wait. I wish I could say it won't happen again, but I'm trying this new thing where I'm honest with myself. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!**

Chapter 4

Regina's heart beats wildly at the thought. When she'd crossed the line she'd promised herself it would be forever. For the first time in her life, she had wanted to leave the past in the past, until the past showed up on her doorstep, that is. "Henry, I can't go back there. Too much has happened. The things I've done…"

Henry shakes his head. He won't be turned down so easily. "But you can. Look, I know what you did, who you were, before, but that's not who you are now."

Regina scowls, "And what makes you so sure? I'm not a good person, Henry. I broke my promise, remember? I used magic when Emma and the two idiots-" Henry raises his eyebrows, "your grandparents," she corrects, "came to lock me up for…Archie." Oh, Archie. His death still weights heavily on her conscience even after all this time. She holds her head in her hands "I didn't kill him." she chokes out, "and I'm so sorry that he's dead. You know that now, Henry, but they don't, and they never will."

"But that's the thing! Mom, he's not dead. They do know you were telling the truth!"

Regina's head whips up. "He's alive?"

Henry nods vigorously. "He showed up at the apartment a week after the funeral. That's when we went to look for you, but you were gone."

Regina considers this information for a moment. The cricket is alive. Emma knows that she was telling the truth all along. Emma. Come to think of it, where is Emma? Henry can't have come all this way alone. "Henry-"

She is cut off by the sound of a phone ringing, and immediately looks to her iPhone sitting on the bedside table, but the smartphone is not the culprit. It's Henry's phone, she realizes, as he pulls it from the pocket of his sweatshirt and makes an anxious face. "Henry," Regina begins again in a low voice, "how did you get here?"

"I..I should probably take this," the boy deflects, flipping the phone open as he hops off the bed and strides towards the kitchen. Regina almost laughs at the way he says it, like he's some thirty-year old businessman instead of her twelve-year old son who may or may not have run away from home for the second time.

By the time she gets out of bed and into the kitchen, Henry's conversation is winding down. "I'm sorry…I love you. Bye." He flips the phone shut and meets Regina's eyes with a weary gaze. "That was Emma." She'd surmised as much. "I'm not exactly… I didn't…Emma doesn't know I'm here." Regina folds her arms across her chest, and Henry is reminded of days gone by. "I had to find you, and I knew Emma never would have let me come, so I made a deal with Mr. Gold and he put me on a bus to Boston and then I had to take this airplane, which was confusing and I was next to this woman who snored pretty loudly-"

Regina stops him with her hand, chewing her lip a moment in frustration. "What do you mean a deal with Gold? And you came all this way alone? Henry! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if something had happened? Can you even begin to imagine what everyone would feel?" she cries, and Henry's cheeks flush pink at her reproach.

"I know, I know. It was a risk, but it was a risk I had to take. Don't you get it? I was never going to see you again! You were gone forever and they weren't going to come looking for you!"

Regina messages her temples. "Henry, when I left, when I thought that you would never forgive me for my past, that was my intention. I never meant for you to find me."

He glares angrily at her, and opens his mouth to speak, but she stops him. "No, let me finish. I see now that I was wrong, I was wrong to assume that you'd be better off without me at all, but Henry," she brushes her fingers down his cheek, "I can't come back with you."

"But why!?" he cries. It doesn't make any sense. He's done everything that he was supposed to do. He loves her. She loves him. People who love each other are supposed to have happy endings, even if they were Evil Queens once. And what about him? Doesn't he deserve a happy ending?

"Henry I don't expect you to understand-"

"You're right, I don't understand. I don't understand why you won't come home. I don't understand why you want to hold onto your past, why you want to push away your second chance at a real life. I don't understand why you say you love me but you won't fight for me!" He's struck a nerve, he can tell by her expression. He should stop, but he's angry now, and the words continue to flow. "Is it because of that guy, the one who was here last night? Because he's no different than Graham. He's never going to be Daniel." The minute the name slips from his tongue he regrets it. He watches his mother's face literally crumple before him before contorting into the stony glare he's always associated with the queen.

"Don't you talk about Daniel," she growls slowly in a low voice. "You don't know anything about him."

Henry swallows, his face burning with shame. He's gone too far. "Mom, I-"

"All I've ever done is fight, Henry," she says sharply, and his mouth snaps shut. "I fought my mother for the entirety of my youth over control of my own destiny. I fought Snow White for the better part of ten years in the name of a man who is _never_ coming back. I fought Emma Swan from the second she arrived in town because I was afraid she was going to take you away from me, and for what? It didn't bring me any peace, Henry, it only brought more suffering." She pauses and he studies her face. She's adept at keeping the mask in place [years of practice will do that], but he does catch the way her jaw trembles ever so slightly. "So you want to know why I won't fight for you?" Her eyes are watery and the tremble is more pronounced. "I lost so much the first time. I don't want to think about how it will end the second."

Henry doesn't bring it up again. Despite the tension in the apartment, it's a beautiful day out, and Regina suggests that perhaps Henry might like to go to the beach. Though he is still disappointed and angry [at both his mother and himself], the temptation is too much to resist. Plus, he gets a new pair of Avengers swim trunks out of it.

The ocean is different in California, and Henry is surprised when he bounds into the waves without freezing. "Come on!" he calls to his mother, who stands at the water's edge in her black two-piece, hands on hips. Unlike her son, Regina wades in slowly, poised and graceful as always, until a particularly strong wave topples her. She comes up laughing, hair slicked back, and Henry can't help but think how good it is to see her smile.

After a time, Regina tires of the water and retreats to the beach, leaving Henry to play some version of capture the flag with a group of boys close in age. From the comfort of her towel, she watches as Henry sprints through the ankle-deep water, flag in hand and flanked by four other boys. Having Henry here with her makes her wonder how she was ever able to exist without him. The voice in the back of her mind wonders how she will ever be able to do it again.

Regina is pulled from he retrospection by the ringing of her cell phone in her bag. She hastily pulls the sleek black smartphone from its pocket and swipes the screen, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Russ," she breathes.

"Yeah. Listen, I've been thinking about last night, and," he lets out a little sigh, "I wanted to apologize. I said some things…it wasn't the time or place. "

"It's ok," she finds herself saying. "It's…I haven't been open with you." She still owes him an explanation, and her stomach churns at the thought of _that_ conversation. More lies, the voice in her head whispers.

The line is quiet for a moment, before Russell's voice crackles to life once again. "Can I see you?"

"Yeah," she agrees quickly, "I'll stop by your place later." It's then that she notices Henry jogging towards her, flashing her a tried grin. "I've gotta go."

"Ok. I love you." She hits the end button and places the phone back in her canvas beach bag.

"Well hello!" she exclaims, as the little prince plops down beside her on the towel. "How was your game?"

"We won," the boy replies with minor enthusiasm, resting his head against her shoulder. "Can we go soon? I'm starving."

* * *

After they've eaten [homemade lasagna, at Henry's request], Regina leaves Henry with Iron Man playing on the television and explicit instructions not to leave the apartment. She won't be gone long, she promises. Henry doesn't ask where she's going, and she doesn't volunteer the information.

15 minutes later she's standing on Russell's doorstep, playing nervously with the bracelet on her tiny wrist. He answers the door clad in jeans and a tee shirt that Regina has a vague recollection of buying him. His dirty blond hair is damp and slicked back. "Hi! Come in, come in," he ushers her inside. A cursory glance around the room tells Regina that he's cleaned up for her. The living room is immaculate, even by her standards, and there are no dishes whatsoever in the sink. "Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?"

Regina shrugs off her jacket, draping it over a chair at the kitchen island. "A beer would be great." Russell raises his eyebrows suggestively and Regina rolls her eyes. "You're not getting me drunk, I've just had a long day."

Russell pops the caps off to two Heinekens and hands one to Regina. "Cheers." The clink and each take a swig, before settling down on the couch in the living room. "How is he?" Russell asks.

"Henry?"

"Henry. I didn't know his name." Russell looks thoughtful for a moment. "He's about twelve?" Regina just nods. "He must look a lot like his Dad," Russell remarks after a moment, and Regina isn't sure if it's a question or a statement. And what the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway?

"I wouldn't know." Now it's Russell's turn to be puzzled. Regina just shakes her head. "Henry is adopted."

"Oh." He seems to consider this for a moment. "But where has he been all this time? Why didn't you ever talk about him?"

Regina sighs heavily and takes another swig from the green bottle. "It was just easier that way. This," she gestures to their surroundings, "L.A., my job, you, all of it was supposed to be a fresh start." Russell looks like he doesn't know what to make of this, and Regina sighs. She's not explaining this very well, but it's difficult when so many details have to be altered or left out altogether. "I used to live in Maine, with Henry. It was a small town, middle of nowhere. Anyway, we were very close when he was small, but as he got older we started having problems. Being a single mom with a full time job got to be a lot of pressure, and I was overbearing sometimes as a result." She leaves out the bit about Henry's book of fairytales and skips ahead to when all her troubles really began. "He ran away when he was ten, you know. Stole his teacher's credit card and used it to find his birth mother in Boston, brought her back to town with him. Things got," she grimaces at the memory, "ugly. I did some things I'm not proud of. Anyway, she ended up with custody of Henry." She takes another sip from the bottle. "It was what he wanted. It was what was best for him."

"I don't think so."

"What?" She looks at him, confusion plaguing her features.

"I don't think it's what he wanted, or what he needed. I mean, I've only known him for about ten minutes, but it's pretty obvious that he loves you." Regina leans her head on his shoulder and he puts him arm around her.

"I wasn't a very good mother," she blurts out. "I've never really…I didn't know how to be one. I didn't exactly have a great role model," she thinks then, for the first time in a long time, of Cora rotting away in her stone casket worlds away.

"Regina," Russell soothes, "He was just a kid. He still is a kid. So maybe you made some mistakes. He made some mistakes too. Shit happens. It doesn't mean you shouldn't be in his life. You raised him, for God's sake. You did love him. You do love him," he smiles and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "That makes you a pretty good Mom in my book."

She lets out a dry sob and buries her face in his chest. They are the words she's needed to hear for a very long time. "Hey," he whispers, and she turns her head up just in time for him to capture her mouth with his. A soft moan escapes her lips as the kiss deepens and Russell lifts her from the couch and into his arms. She wraps her legs around his torso as he bounds up the stairs and into the bedroom.

"You know," he begins when they've finally made it to the bed, "I know that 'I don't know how to love very well' is like your little catchphrase," he smirks, "but baby I sincerely beg to differ."

Regina responds by pulling him down by the shirt collar. "Less talking, more kissing," she breathes, running her hands through his hair.

"Right away, your majesty," he responds, tossing his tee shirt to the side. Had she not been so agreeably engaged, Regina might have screamed at the irony.

* * *

"I can't stay," Regina says softly, slowly untangling herself from the sheets. "Henry is expecting me at home."

Russell sighs and closes his eyes. "I know."

She picks her clothes up piece by piece from where they have been scattered about the room and hastily dresses herself. She gives Russell a peck on the lips and is about to go, when he grabs her arm. Regina tilts her head at him in confusion.

"Promise me something," he says seriously, looking her in the eyes.

"Anything." It surprises her that she actually means it.

"I know that you have to figure things out with Henry, but…Promise me that I'm going to see you again."

Regina swallows. If there's one thing she's learned from life it's that there are no guarantees. It's in that moment that she wants to tell him everything. She wants to tell him about the time a young girl planted an apple tree with her father in a kingdom far, far away. She wants to tell him about the stable boy with the kind brown eyes and the way the whole world shifted when he died. She wants to tell him about magic and curses and revenge and redemption.

But she doesn't say any of those things.

She just smiles her Mona Lisa smile and solemnly swears, "I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It's dark by the time she gets back to the apartment. Hanging up her coat and purse by the door, Regina pokes her head around the corner and finds Henry asleep on the couch in front of the TV. She manages to pry the remote out of her son's hand and fetches a pillow and blanket for him from the hall closet.

"Mom?" he asks sleepily, as Regina slides the pillow underneath his head and spreads the blanket over his body.

"Hi honey. Shh, it's fine, go back to sleep." Henry's eyelids flutter again before drooping shut. Regina's fingers linger of Henry, and she brushes the hair out of his eyes. Looking at him now, her heart feels full enough to burst. The selfish part of her wants to keep him here forever. For a fleeting moment, she actually considers it. It would be easy enough. They'd get out of the country and go to Europe. Spain, maybe, or Italy. She pictures a house in the country, with a garden and a stable and a pair of fine horses, one for her and one for Henry. But it is not to be. She knows this. Even if Henry were to agree, Regina knows that Emma Swan would go to the ends of the Earth to find their son. In fact, it surprises her that Emma hasn't broken down the door by now. Henry must have covered his tracks well.

With Henry asleep, Regina curls up in bed, laptop propped up against her knees. It takes about an hour to find what she's looking for, and it just about kills her to click the final button, but she knows that it's what's supposed to be done.

She doesn't sleep well and is up before Henry, which turns out to be a blessing as there is so much to be done and it's easier to accomplish tasks without him pestering her with questions. When Henry does finally wake, he finds his mother in her bedroom, duffle bag open on her bed, neatly folding a pair of jeans.

"Mom? What are you doing?"

Fuck. Regina's head whips around and she takes in the sight of her son, eyeing her with a befuddled expression from the doorway.

"Packing," she answers simply.

"Yeah, I can see that. Packing for what?"

Regina zips the duffel bag shut. "In six hours you and I are going to be on a plane to Boston." She slings the bag over her shoulder. "I'm taking you home."

Henry's face lights up, and he follows her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Regina drops the bag by the door and sets about pouring bowls of cereal for herself and her son. "What changed your mind?" he asks through a mouthful of Cheerios.

"I haven't changed my mind," she admits, stirring her bowl of cereal with her spoon. "I'm not staying."

Henry looks as though he's about to protest, but Regina won't hear it. "Don't start, Henry. We only have another day together and I'd rather not spend it fighting."

She sounds tired, he thinks. "Ok," he says simply. Circumstances have merited a change in tactic. Arguing with his mother clearly is not going to work, so he'll play along for now. He'll let her think that she's won while he bides his time and figures out a way to keep her in Storybrooke. He convinces himself that this isn't just about him and his selfish desires; it goes beyond that. This is about her, too. She belongs in Storybrooke, he's sure of it. It is exactly like when he found Emma. It is destiny, his and hers, together.

* * *

Regina Mills does not enjoy flying. There's something about it that just seems so inherently unnatural to her, and she can't help the ominous feeling that sits in her stomach for the entirety of the journey. Henry is unperturbed. He eats a warm cinnamon roll offered to him by a kindly stewardess and falls asleep with his head against the window. Regina tries to do the same, but drifts in and out, her dreams plagued by nightmares of big white planes falling from the sky and sorceresses that rip out the hearts of brave young men. When she wakes with 20 minutes to landing, she feels more tired than before.

The original plan was to stay over in Boston and go on to Storybrooke the following day, but Regina is too anxious. She can't take another sleepless night spent staring at the ceiling and wondering about what ifs. It must be done and it must be done today.

The Mercedes is, surprisingly, exactly where Regina had left it; covered with a tarp in an abandoned parking garage. A quick inspection finds the car in excellent condition, despite being low on gas. "I'm glad you kept it," Henry chirps from the passenger's seat. "I've always imagined learning how to drive in this car." Regina's breath catches in her throat at that. Henry may have come to her, but Regina knows that she is at the mercy of Emma Swan when it comes to any future interactions with her son. The thought scares her half to death, but she puts on a brave face for Henry and smiles.

"I can't wait for that, Henry."

As Regina is about to put the car into drive, her phone buzzes, and she pulls it from its resting place in the cup holder on the door. _1 new message_. She swipes at the screen to read the text. _How goes it with the little man?_ Russell. She quickly types back a response. _In Boston. Taking him home. Pick me up at LAX Wednesday night?_ His reply is almost instantaneous. _Wouldn't miss it for the world. _She leaves it at that, and puts the car into drive.

* * *

It's dark by the time they arrive in Maine. Fog rolls out of the trees and the Benz's headlights barely illuminate the road in front of them. Regina eases her foot off the gas, both to avoid a car crash as well as to relish every last moment with her son, because she knows that the minute the car comes to a stop, they're going to take him away from her all over again. Maybe forever.

Why is she doing this again?

Because somewhere, deep down, you're still a good person, the voice in her head whispers. Regina isn't so sure.

_Now Entering Storybrooke_

The sight of the faded green sign sends a chill down her spine.

"When am I going to see you again?" Henry blurts out suddenly as they cross the town line, turning to look at her with wild eyes.

"Henry…" She doesn't know what to tell him.

"This is a bad idea," he insists. "We need more time. We can figure out a plan, one where they have to listen to you. I mean, legally, you're still my mom, right? So we could talk to a lawyer and-"

Regina cuts him off. "Henry it would never work. No one in this town is going to help me by performing such a service, and bringing outsiders to Storybrooke is the last thing that would ever convince Emma and your grandparents to let me into your life." She drums her fingers against the steering wheel. "Emma will understand," she says finally, willing it to be true. "You'll come visit, I promise. Maybe for the summer even. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Her son is silent from the passenger seat. The sight of the house, still standing tall, catches her eye as they pull onto Mifflin Street, and its because of this that she doesn't catch the tear that runs down Henry's cheek.

When they come to the apartment complex, Regina kills the engine. They sit in the car for a moment in silence. Regina hears the chirping of crickets outside and tries to recall if there were ever crickets in Storybrooke before.

As they get out of the car and make their way up the path, Henry takes Regina's hand and gives it a squeeze. She interlockers her fingers with his and squeezes back. Her heart beats wildly as they climb the stairs, and Henry uses the hand not dominated by his mother's iron grip to ring the bell. Regina closes her eyes. _One. Two. Three. Four._ The door swings open and Regina's eyes fly open to the sight of Emma Swan.

"You." Emma says, dumbstruck.

"Hi," Regina offers with a sheepish grin. It's then that she is struck with an overwhelming sensation of deja vu, and realizes that this is exactly where they were two years ago, except that this time the roles have been reversed.

"Emma!" Henry exclaims, and launches himself at the blonde, wrapping his arms around her waist and sending her stumbling back into the interior of the home. "I missed you!" he says with such sincerity that Regina thinks she's going to be sick.

"I missed you too, kid," Emma says, wide eyed, still trying to process the situation. Her face turns stern, however, and she grasps Henry by both shoulders. "Jesus, Henry, what the hell were you thinking!? Do you have any idea how worried I was? I had no idea where you'd gone and your phone call was no help at all. 'I'm fine and I love you but that's all I can say.' What _was_ that!? If you ever-"

Regina clears her throat, and Emma stops in her tracks. It's at that particular moment that Snow and Charming emerge from the upstairs loft. "Emma? What's going on?"

Regina's blood still runs cold at the sound of Snow White's voice. In the back of her mind, she hears echoes of that same voice promising her over and over that she knew how to keep a secret. That voice, Regina thinks, will haunt her until the day she dies.

"Regina?" Charming questions, eying the former queen with suspicion and confusion, arms folded across his chest.

"I'll tell you what's going on, she took Henry," Emma accuses, drawing the boy closer.

Regina can barely contain her disgust. "I did no such thing," she bites back. "Henry found _me_," she says with a smirk. She'd be lying if she said it didn't feel good to throw that particular factoid back in Emma's face, Emma, who'd been concerned about _Regina's_ ability to care for Henry when the boy had gone searching for the savior in Boston. Now you know how it feels, Regina thinks.

Emma puts a hand to her head and brushes her hair back with her fingers. Looking at Henry, her face softens and she sighs. "It's really late, kid. You should probably be in bed. We can talk in the morning."

Henry gulps. He has a feeling that a stern talking to awaits him in the morning, but then he catches Regina's eye, and he smiles, because he knows that whatever reprimand there is in store for him, he wouldn't do a thing differently. "Ok," he concedes. "Night!" he says to Emma. Before he starts up the stairs he stops and flings his arms once more around his mother, who holds him just as tightly. They are each equally afraid to let go, but it is Regina, in the end, who pulls away first. "Sweet dreams, Henry," she says softly, as the boy makes his way up to his bedroom.

And then it is just the four of them, the savior and her self-righteous parents against the evil queen, back from self-imposed exile. "We need to talk," she says, breaking the awkward silence that hangs between them. "Look, I'm not asking for a lot. I'm not even staying. I don't…belong here, anymore. But," she takes a deep breathe and goes on, "I want to see him. Please." A year ago, Regina would have died before begging Emma Swan for anything, but this is about Henry, and Regina, exhausted and emotional, is desperate. "Please," she repeats again, "I just want to be in his life. To call him, to have him come visit for a weekend, a week, a day, anything."

Emma shakes her head. "I don't know, Regina…"

"And why not, hm? I brought him back! I brought him back to you when it would have been _so_ easy to take him and run as far away from you as possible. I did the right thing! After all this time, after Archie, why can't you believe me?"

"You left him," Emma spits. "You ran like a coward and left him behind, and I had to pick up the pieces. You know he called you? Every single day he called you. It wasn't healthy. It was…" she shakes her head at the memory. "I don't ever want to see him like that again. Maybe you don't mean to, but you always hurt him in the end, Regina."

"_I_ hurt him?" Regina's blood is practically boiling. "You were the one who gave him up in the first place! You knew that I'd left town. You knew that I was innocent. You kept my letter from him! You kept him from me!" she exclaims angrily, advancing towards the blonde.

Before she can get any closer, however, David grabs her. "Ok, Regina, we're done here. Emma, toss me the cuffs."

"My mistake, I'd forgotten that it's against the law to disagree with a Charming," she drawls sarcastically. As David is snapping the metal cuffs around her wrists, Regina feels around with her fingertips for the magic that she knows is in the air, and is surprised to find that it is beyond her reach. Shit.

"Just for the night," Emma clarifies. "For your own safety as well as ours. Things have changed since you've been gone."

"Off we go" David says gruffly pulling her by the elbow out the front door and into the night.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding," she says as the Prince parks the car in front of the sheriff's station.

David gives her a tired sigh and he exits the car and holds the door open for her to follow suit. "Look, I don't know what Henry told you, but it's like Emma said, Regina, a lot had changed." He unlocks the door and leads her down the dark hallway to the office and holding cells. "This is the safest place for you to be right now. Frankly, you should be thanking me."

When they arrive at her cell, however, Regina begs to differ. "No. No," she whispers, incredulously, as David removes her handcuffs and pulls the iron barred door shut.

"I'll be back for you in the morning," he says, hesitating, before adding, "I promise."

Regina can't breathe, let alone respond. David's footsteps get softer and softer until they disappear from earshot altogether. And then it is just the two of them.

This can't be happening. It's a hallucination. A dream.

"Hello Darling," an all too familiar voice calls sweetly from the adjacent cell.

"Mother."


	6. Chapter 6

**Guys. How insane was "The Queen is Dead"? Insane. The anticipation for "The Miller's Daughter" is killing me. On the off chance that it's killing all of you as well, here, have an update! xo. **

Chapter 6

This is the end, Regina thinks. She is the gladiator and Cora is the lion and there is no escape. When David had promised to come back for her tomorrow, he must have meant to collect her dead body. She feels around for magic once again and finds nothing, this time, not a trace.

Cora reaches an arm through the bars and Regina sucks in a breath and waits for her heart to be pulled from her chest. She hopes her mother will do it as Rumplestiltskin had taught them both: quick and painless.

But Cora's hand does not go to Regina's heart. It goes to her cheek. "My sweet girl," she croons, running her fingertips down her daughter's clammy cheek. "My Regina." The gesture gives Regina chills, but she can't seem to move from where she stands, only a couple of flimsy iron bars between herself and the woman she thought she'd never see again.

"It's been so long," Cora says, her hand moving to finger Regina's short raven tresses. "You've cut off all your pretty hair," she says, frowning, letting the curl fall from her grasp. It is from her mother's criticism that Regina finally finds her voice.

"What are you doing here, mother? How did you get through?" She tries to keep her tone even and calm, despite the panic that is raging inside of her.

"I'm not so easily defeated, as you well know." Regina swallows, and Cora chuckles, "I'm not angry, darling. I know why you tried to have me killed, and it's alright."

"I think it's not alright," Regina counters. It had never been alright, not really.

"Well…" Cora shrugs. "What happened, happened, but I had to see you. I'm so sorry, Regina, for everything. I came here to tell you that, and to help you in this…difficult time."

Regina recoils from the bars, moving to sit on the cell's cot. "You're sorry?" her voice shakes. "You're not sorry, mother. You're not sorry for Daniel. You're not sorry that you sold me into that hellhole of a marriage, a slave to a man old enough to be my _father_," Regina spits, furious. "You're sorry that you didn't win, that it didn't all work out exactly the way you wanted it to. You're sorry that I finally did what I should have done from the beginning and took control of my own _life_."

Cora cocks her head and studies her daughter for a moment. "And where has it gotten you, Regina? Here?" she gestures around them into the darkness. "This cell? You don't honestly think they're going to let you go, do you? The Evil Queen who ripped away their happy endings? Hm? No no no, that wouldn't do. They won't kill you, of course, not with young Henry around…"

Regina's head snaps up at the mention of Henry's name. "What do you know about Henry?" she asks, eyes narrowed.

Cora waves her hand. "Oh, this and that. I must say he's very much like you, disobedient and strong willed. He was certainly your son once," she pauses, her lips contorting into a mock pout," Oh, but now he belongs to Emma Swan. Now isn't that just a pity?" Her expression brightens after a moment of contemplation, and her voice is hypnotic. "But I can help you, my dear. I can help you get him back, if only you'll let me. We can fix this, what they've done to you, but only if we do it together." Cora's hand extends gracefully through the bars, reaching for Regina's.

The part of Regina that still craves her mother's love swells up suddenly, fighting against the older, wiser Regina, who knows very well that wherever Cora leads disaster inevitably follows.

Cora can practically smell her daughter's hesitation.

Be strong, Regina, the voice in her head whispers, and she shakes her head vigorously. "There is no we, mother, and that's not who I am anymore."

Cora laughs. "You foolish girl. Don't you understand? You've always been meant for great things, Regina, for power. Your dalliance with the stable boy, your little disappearing act from Storybrooke, they could never have lasted. You can't escape destiny, Regina."

"Daniel wasn't some _dalliance_, mother," Regina says through gritted teeth. "Daniel was everything. _Forever_. But you and Snow, you took him from me, because you both wanted me for yourselves," she hisses, disgusted. "See, that's what you still don't understand, mother. Henry isn't an object. He's not some pawn to move around on a chessboard. He doesn't _belong_ to anyone." Regina pushes her mother's hand away, turning her back and curling up on the cot. "And neither do I," she adds quietly.

* * *

"We can't let her out," Snow says matter-of-factly the next morning when Emma walks into the kitchen, already seated at the kitchen island with a cup of tea in hand.

"Good morning to you too," Emma mumbles sleepily, reaching for the coffee pot on the counter and pouring herself a cup.

Snow exhales. "I'm sorry, I've just been thinking about it all night. It's just that we're in such a precarious place right now, Emma, and if Regina gets angry and tries to use magic-"

"I know," Emma says, blowing on her coffee. "I know. But I have to think about what's best for Henry, too." Emma meets her mother's gaze. "And she did have a point. She brought him back. We know she didn't kill Archie. She really was trying, is trying to change. Honestly, I don't think she's here to cause any trouble."

James strides in just then, wrapping his arm around Snow's waist and planting a kiss on her cheek. Emma makes a face and takes a long sip of coffee. Grabbing her jacket off of the back of the chair, she pulls it on. "I'm going to the station. Are you guys ok with watching Henry?"

Snow and the prince share a glance. Charming clears his throat and asks, "Of course we can take care of Henry, but are you sure you don't want me to come with you? An extra pair of hands, you know, just in case…"

Emma shakes her head. "No, this is something I need to do alone and unarmed, not brandishing weapons with my dad."

"Ok," he says simply. They don't push her on things like this or on anything, really. Sometimes it drives Emma insane, the way that they tiptoe around her like they're afraid that she's going to wake up one morning and decide that she wants nothing more to do with them. That would never happen, and Emma is sure that they know that, but sometimes, when it comes to one's children, fear overrides common sense. Emma knows this more than anyone. It was in a moment of fear that she'd decided not to give Henry Regina's note, not to tell him she'd fled town. Better to let him think she'd abandoned him than to know the truth. But Emma had been wrong. She sees that now, and as she unlocks the door to the sheriff's station and makes her way down the long, dark corridor, she hopes that she can make things right, here and now.

When she reached the cellblock, Emma finds Regina sitting cross-legged on her cot. "Ms. Swan," she says coldly, standing and brushing at the wrinkles in her shirt. "If you would be so kind, I have a plane to catch." She gestures to the keys in Emma's hands.

"Right, of course." Emma unlocks the door and Regina steps out, regal as ever.

"We're not through, Regina," Cora calls as the two women retreat from the room.

"We've been through for a very long time," Regina says softly as she matches Emma stride for stride down the hallway and out into the Maine sunshine. Regina eyes Emma's yellow bug warily. "I'd rather walk," she quips, and Emma rolls her eyes.

"Just get in the car, Regina."

After a moment, the Queen relents.

When Emma misses the turn off for the Charming family abode, Regina tries not to assume the worst. But then Emma misses another turn. And another. And another. Finally, Regina can't hold her tongue any longer. "I know I've been gone, but I still know my way around town, Ms. Swan. Just where exactly are you taking me?"

Emma doesn't even have to answer, though, because it's then that they reach their destination: Henry's castle. Or what used to be Henry's castle. Now it's just a couple of benches in front of the ocean. "What are we doing here?" Regina asks as Emma gets out of the car. Emma doesn't answer, and instead makes a beeline for one of the benches. "Ms. Swan!" Regina calls to the blonde's back. "Emma!" Letting out a little huff of frustration, Regina unbuckles her seat belt and follows, shutting the bug's door perhaps a little more aggressively than necessary.

She drops herself down beside the savior, who sits cross-legged on the bench staring out at the bay. "Ok. You dragged me all the way out here. For what?"

Emma answers without turning to look at her. "Because you and I are going to have a chat. Alone. Just us. No interruptions."

No witnesses, Regina thinks pessimistically. She folds her arms and watches the waves lap the little bit of rocky beach shore.

"I'm sorry," Emma says suddenly, turning to look at the woman who once ripped an entire existence from her. "About what I did with Henry after, you know. It was wrong, I get that now. I did exactly what you did when I came to town two years ago. I panicked. I thought it would be easier for him if you were just gone, that he could just put ten years of his life behind him and start again. But I was wrong." She pauses, perhaps to take in Regina's softened expression. "You raised him," Emma says quietly. "You did what I couldn't. And he turned out so well. But I think…it just makes me a little jealous some times, you know? And that time I let it get the best of me."

It takes Regina a moment to process the fact that rather than bringing her out to the bay to put a bullet between her eyes, the sheriff wants to make amends. "I…accept your apology," she finally says slowly. And I'm sorry that I tried to kill you, adds the voice in her head, but she doesn't speak those words aloud.

"Good."

They sit in silence for another moment or so, before Emma starts again. "Listen, I don't know what Henry told you about the situation in town, but we've got kind of a mess on our hands. Hook is still running loose and there was this whole mess of a car accident with a stranger that had to be dealt with. We had to wipe the guy's memory clean, which was a task and a half, let me tell you. But the latest is that according to mother superior-" Regina scowls at the mention of the good fairy's name "- there's some disproportionate amount of unstable dark magic floating around, presumably something Cora concocted before we caught up to her-"

"Which is why you locked me up," Regina interjects.

Emma looks uncomfortable. "You were upset, and we were just worried that your emotions might drive you to…you know, use magic."

Regina resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Well I appreciate the vote of confidence," she drawls sarcastically.

"Hey, the last time I saw you, you threw me half way across your front lawn, so excuse me for not being president of your fan club," Emma bites back.

"I've hurt you," Regina begins slowly. "I've tried to kill you. I've tried to kill your parents," Emma's expression darkens. "But I've also saved you. I don't expect you to like me, but you didn't have to put me in there with _her_," Regina counters. Emma's phone pings and she breaks their staring contest to glance at the text. Regina can't help but be annoyed.

"About your mother," Emma starts, before Regina cuts her off.

"I don't want to talk about her."

Regina has no wish to rehash painful memories for the benefit of Emma Swan. In fact, she wants nothing more than to leave Cora and all the misery she has wrought behind her in that cell, in the hands of the law that will judge her for her crimes once and for all.

"Yeah, well, we're going to have to talk about her, because she's gone." As Emma becomes visibly distressed, Regina slumps back on the bench. It seems as though she won't be making that plane after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

If you had asked Regina Mills a week ago where she saw herself the following Friday, "camped out in Snow White's guest bedroom" wouldn't have even registered, and yet here she is, curled up on the couch beside Henry's bed as the boy sleeps. She watches the methodical rise and fall of his chest and thinks that this isn't how things were supposed to be. She should hardly be surprised, though. Nothing in Regina's life has ever really gone according to plan. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she swings her legs off of the couch and tiptoes down the stairs to the kitchen, careful not to wake the dozing child who worries far too much for a boy his age.

She is surprised to find David already seated at the kitchen island, despite the fact that when she glances at the clock it reads 5:15am. The floor creaks beneath her feet and he whips around, hand flying to the holster he never seems to part with anymore. Regina's hands fly up in return, and her eyes widen. "It's only me."

David sighs, in annoyance or relief she can't tell, and his posture relaxes. He reaches for the coffee pot and hands Regina a mug. "What has you out of bed so early?" he asks as she adds cream and sugar to the steaming cup.

Swirling the hot liquid with a spoon, she takes the seat next to him. "I could ask you the same question."

He is quiet for a moment, before looking at her seriously. "It's been three days. Every day that she's out there we're in danger, all of us. I, for one, am tired of walking on eggshells. "

Regina and the prince may not see eye to eye on many things (on anything, really), but on the subject of Cora she agrees wit him, if only for Henry's sake. This town may not be Regina's home any longer, but it is still her son's, and she won't leave him until she knows with absolute certainty that he will be safe in her absence. "So what do you suggest?" she asks finally.

With one look she knows what his answer is without him having to say it. She can see it in his eyes, the way they gleam with a mix of regret and determination.

"No," she whispers, her face contorting into a look of utter revulsion.

"Regina-"

"No." This time she says it a little more forcefully. "Do you have any idea what you're saying? You're talking about _murdering_ my _mother_," she hisses.

"Oh come on. You've never been one to shy away from capital punishment. She's a monster, Regina. She'll tear this town apart if we let her."

"Rumplestiltskin is a monster, and yet he lives and breathes," she counters angrily, leaning in close "So unless you want to establish a particularly bloody precedent, I suggest you forget the thought ever even crossed your mind."

But Charming is stubborn. Just like his wife, Regina thinks. "I can't just rule it out, not when the fate of the town hangs in the balance."

"Then you're a fool," she says angrily, getting up to leave, but before she does, Charming grabs her by the arm roughly.

"I think we both know that this isn't going to be pretty, Regina, and sooner or later, you're going to have to make a choice. You're going to have to decide just whose side it is that you're on."

Pulling her forearm from the Prince's vice-like grasp, she gives him the most menacing glare that she can manage at such an early hour. Her furious rebuttal, however, is over before it can even begin as Regina becomes faintly aware of the soft padding of feet on the stairs behind her.

"Mom?" She takes a calming breath and turns to face her son, who is rightfully concerned that his mother may be ready to rip his grandfather to shreds at any second. Again. "Is everything ok?"

"Everything is fine, Henry," she lies through her teeth, as she moves through the kitchen to pour him a bowl of cereal. Frowning at the selection (Coco puffs, honestly?), she decides on the Rice Krispies. She hands the bowl to Henry wordlessly and makes a mental note to do her own grocery shopping later.

"Sooo…why are we all up so early?" the boy asks, eyeing the adults warily.

David taps his cellphone. "Your mom and I were just talking, but I actually got a call about fifteen minutes ago about some noise out by the town line. I'm going to check it out." As he gets up to put on his jacket, Regina stands to do the same.

"I'm coming with you." It isn't a question, and he knows it. Damned if Regina is going to let the town she'd worked so hard to build crumble to dust under its naïve new management.

* * *

The ride to the town line is mostly silent. Regina passes the time staring out the window at Storybrooke in the early morning mist. As hard as it is to admit, she has missed this place.

"Whoa," David says suddenly, stopping the car so abruptly that it throws Regina forward against her seatbelt. Leave it to Prince Charming to give her whiplash.

She turns to see just what it is that's caught his attention and gasps. A car, terribly disfigured, it wrapped around a tree just inside the Storybrooke border. Both the Prince and Queen scramble out of the truck to survey the wreckage.

"What happened here?" Regina wonders aloud, running her hand along the driver's side door, which has been thrown open haphazardly.

"Massachusetts plates," Charming calls from behind her. "Definitely not a local."

Regina cocks her head as she peers into the interior of the car. "Wonderful. Where is our driver anyway?" It's then that she notices the small black box sitting in the passenger's seat and her eyes widen. Not good. Not good at all. "David!" she calls, panic rising in her voice. "We have to get out of here!"

The deputy's brow furrows in confusion as he comes to stand beside her. "What? Why?"

But there is no time to explain. Part of Regina has no qualms whatsoever about leaving the ignorant fop to die, but other more rational part of Regina knows that this is not an option. He is Henry's family, she reminds herself, as she grabs his hand and takes off at a sprint into the forest.

The explosion that occurs mere moments later knocks them both to the ground and sends bits of earth flying in all directions.

"What the hell was that?" Charming shouts, as Regina scrambles back to her feet.

"Think of it as a magical booby-trap," she replies, dusting herself off and frowning at a small tear that has emerged in the hem of her jacket. "Come on, we might still not be clear of it."

They take off again, this time in the direction of town, weaving through the trees and carefully avoiding protruding roots. Regina has never been more relieved not to be wearing high heels than she is at this moment. Finally, she slows down, stopping to lean against a snow white birch tree. "I think we should be ok," she says, turning around to look at David.

But he isn't there.

"David?" she calls, turning in a circle and finding neither hide nor hair of the prince. She is so preoccupied with having inadvertently lost her sworn enemy that she doesn't hear the footsteps behind her until it is too late, and everything fades to black.

* * *

Regina wakes with a spitting headache. Her eyes focus slowly in the dim lighting. Where is she? Slowly, she pulls herself up and finds that she knows exactly where she is: the hidden room in the Mills' mausoleum. But how did she get here? She was in the woods, and then? Nothing. She can't remember a thing.

A faint moan penetrates the silence and Regina's head whips around, searching for the source. She finds herself completely unprepared for the sight before her. "Russell?" she whispers, crawling (she finds herself slightly too woozy still to stand] to the man on the carpet behind her. "Russ?" Her hand trembles as she brushes her fingers against his cheek, which is bruised a deep purple. She takes note of little scrapes on his arms and the bit of blood in his matted hair.

"Regina?" he whispers, squinting up at her.

"Hey." She scoots closer and pulls his head into her lap, running her hands through the tangled mess of his dirty blonde hair. He braces himself against her to sit up against the wall. "Easy," she murmurs. "You probably have a concussion."

"I'm fine," he stubbornly assures her, his gaze turning to one of concern as he takes in the scrapes on hands and the dirt on her cheek. "What happened to you?"

She shakes off his question. "It doesn't matter. How are you here? How did you…?" She struggles to make sense of his presence in Storybrooke.

"When I went to pick you up from the airport three days ago and you weren't there, I got worried. Tried calling you and couldn't get through, said your line was disconnected or something. My buddy Miles, you remember Miles, he's with the LAPD and he owed me a favor, so I had him run your credit card, last swiped at a diner in a place called Storybrooke, Maine two days ago."

"The car at the line…that was you." She covers her mouth with her hand, horrified now by the memory of the crash wreckage.

"I drove up from Boston this morning. It was misty out, could barely see the road in front of me. I just made it past the town sign and then…there was this woman in the middle of the road, just standing there. I swerved so I wouldn't hit her. Must've hit a tree instead…" He looks around them at the lavishly decorated room, filled with gowns and finery from a life left behind. "But how did I get here? What is all this? Where are we?"

Regina shakes her head. "We don't have time for me to explain. Can you stand?" He looks at her like she's crazy, so she cups her face in her hands. "Listen, you have to trust me. You have no idea of the danger you're in here. We have to go, we have to run before-"

"Regina darling!" The words send a shiver down her spine, and her heart practically leaps out of her chest as the door swings open and Cora strides in, coming to stand before her daughter and the man on the ground. Regina is struck at once with a sense of deja-vu, a most unpleasant memory. Cora extends a manicured hand to her daughter and smiles brightly. "I see you've met our guest."

Regina simply nods. "Mother, I-"

"We've no time for long winded apologies darling. Now come along and clean yourself up. There's much to be done and time is of the essence."

Whatever Cora is up to, Regina certainly doesn't want to be a part of it. Mother's plans never seem to work out in Regina's favor. And yet, with Russell and Henry to worry about and magic still beyond her grasp, she finds herself with no other option but to play along. "Yes. Yes, of course."

As she moves to stand, Russell takes her hand. "Don't go," he says softly, sitting up so that they see eye to eye.

The spark of recognition in Cora's eyes makes Regina's chest tighten. "Do you two know each other? Does he mean something to you?" she asks, head tilted thoughtfully to one side.

Regina can scarcely breathe. Behind her eyes the memories come in flashes. Daniel's ring on her finger. Mother's hand in his chest. Daniel's body in her arms.

So she does what must be done to protect the man she loves.

"No," she says flatly, rising to stand beside her mother. Looking down at the wounded man on the ground, she says, "He is nothing to me." She turns then to follow her mother out of the hidden chamber, the hurt and confusion on her lover's face a burning image in her mind.


End file.
